


Dearest Annabelle

by BabelGhoti, bookworm83197, gandalfspace, TwoCatsTailoring



Category: Fandom - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Hugo Wank 2k19, OTW Fundraising Drive April 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-25 08:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20721182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabelGhoti/pseuds/BabelGhoti, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm83197/pseuds/bookworm83197, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gandalfspace/pseuds/gandalfspace, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoCatsTailoring/pseuds/TwoCatsTailoring
Summary: Dearest Annabelle,Keeping up with the Hugowank is a long and thankless task, especially being in a group chat where most people wank when I am asleep. It keeps me away from you and the children so much, and yet -- it is my duty.[now featuring additional chapters for other wanks!]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing these missives to my fictional wife and children as a way of blowing off steam while backreading the enormous groupchat I am a part of that has been glued to the HugoWank, based off the delightful hockey twitter meme encapsulated by [this account](https://twitter.com/majpatrickeaves?lang=en). (As always, everything comes back to hockey.) Members of the groupchat got really invested and wanted me to post it as a work, so here I am! Any further updates will go in new chapters. There has been minimal editing because consistency is for chumps. Anything not addressed to Dearest Annabelle was written by other members of the group chat!
> 
> Dearest Annabelle image is by memorizingthedigitsofpi!! <3 Also, people have begun writing letters to Annabelle in the comments of this fic, so check those out if you are so inclined!

**17th September, 18:32**  
Dearest Annabelle,  
It is cold and rainy here at the front, but we are vanquishing the enemy, as slow as it may seem. It has taken me 1.5 hours to backread the first 7 hours of content and I fear that was but a brief lull compared to what lies ahead. If I perish here, please bequeath my fics to ao3 user Stormvandal. I long to return home to you again one day.

* * *

**17th September, 21:40**  
Dearest Annabelle,  
I fear my enthusiasm is lagging! The backread seems insurmountable, as I am still 9 hours away from seeing you once again. I may have to turn back before I reach the summit, and only hope that the terrible wank storm does not impede my vision such that I get lost and have to eat our sled dogs. I eagerly await returning to you and the children one day.

* * *

**17th September, 22:48**  
Dearest Annabelle,  
I HAVE MADE IT

* * *

**19th September, 16:11**  
Dearest Annabelle,  
I had a blissful time away from the trenches at home on reprieve, but the salvos are coming thick and fast! I feel that I may never catch up, as I am literally still 29 hours behind in the backlog. I send my love to you, the children, and also to everyone I've ever known. If I die here, I died doing what I loved: destroying the Hugo Awards.

* * *

**19th September, 18:30**  
Dearest Annabelle,  
I am now only 13 hours away from reaching you! It feels like I have aged many years, but on the plus side, this wilderness has created many glorious poets. My will remains strong. All my love to you and the girls, whom I hope to see soon!

* * *

**19th September, 20:46**  
Dearest Annabelle,  
I miss you and the children. It has been eighty-four long years and I do not seem to be getting any closer to my destination! But I have found more poetry, so I guess that's something?

* * *

**19th September, 21:21**  
Dearest Annabelle,  
I have reached the marker I left on the way in, which means I am only four hours away from victory! I no longer understand words that mean things, and I cannot believe that all these details we have discovered about how the other side works. The decentralisation is terrifying. Send my love to the children, I hope they will once again know a loving second parent eventually. (Preferably me. Please don't divorce me over this Annabelle.)

* * *

**20th September, 11:09, an overheard conversation at the front:**  
Capt. Lydia: Emma! How are Annabelle and the children?  
Capt. Emma: My Dearest Annabelle is well! I was only on base for an hour and fifteen minutes, so I have the opportunity to go watch my beautiful children in the school play. You know, one of them learnt to walk while I was away in the Hugo wilderness. I have missed so much.

* * *

**20th September, 14:18**  
Dearest Annabelle,  
I write this missive to you at the kitchen table as you repair the lobster costume Genevieve somehow broke on the opening night of the school play so that in future times you may remember this. There was a day when I was free to keep up with the wank as it happened, brief half-hour meetings that did not keep me away from you and the children. It feels that, however momentarily, the wank has slowed and I am treading water. Faintly, like a gull, I hear a yuletide wank in the distance, and I remember that one day, this too shall pass.

* * *

**21st September, 08:41**  
Dearest Annabelle, I have duties to attend! It is somewhat ironic that I am being taken from you and the children to attend a bar mitzvah, but as part of the Jewish regiment's choir, it is compulsory. I will attempt to continue my battle in the brief space between bar mitzvah and slichot! Truly, the nerve of the Jewish calender to interfere with this long and endless wank.

* * *

**21st September, 13:42**  
Dearest Annabelle,  
The bat mitzvah was lovely, a welcome and wholesome reprieve from the endless wank storm. I did not cry during the bat mitzvah's speech but she sure did. Are they getting smaller each year, Annabelle, or am I getting older? This one had to pop out the little stepstool under the bimah so she could see the Torah properly. The weather over here is also glorious, which just makes it so much more a shame that I must now wade back into the wank! I miss you and the children already.

* * *

**21st September, 15:57**  
Dearest Annabelle,  
Did you know that there is a festival about banana pudding? It happens in the United States, that far-off place, and apparently it is quite well-organised. There are competitions. I do not like bananas or American pudding, but I would like to go just so I could say I've been. Sometimes, Annabelle, the world is good actually. Maj. Gen. Tingle gave a rousing speech to the troops today which rallied our spirits, assuring us that our cause was just. I hope so, Annabelle. If not, I’m not sure what we’ve all been fighting for.

This war has only been going for a week! I feel that I’ve aged decades. I cannot believe Bobson learned how to walk in the short time I have been absent. Truly, this war has taken things from me. Every day, people arrive at camp, having been away and uncontactable for days or even the whole week, only to discover everything is on fire. I feel sorry for them, but I wonder who the real winner is here — and I suspect it is them.

I have been at this wank for half an hour and have succeeded in getting through… three hours of wank. I abandoned this letter to go back into the fray and am now six hours in, but have only half an hour before I need to return to my religious duties! Damn that Jewish calendar, it sneaks up on you every year.

* * *

**21st September 15:41, snippet of a letter intercepted from Amiril:**  
Dear Annabelle, I am very much concerned about your wife. Like Sisyphus, she keeps approaching the great mountain we here refer to as Backread....

* * *

**21st September, 16:37**  
Dearest Annabelle,  
I give up on the wank having got a valiant 7.5 hours in. I wrote a very angry letter to you but discarded it because you do not deserve to witness my frustration at fighting this war! You are fighting your own war at home, given you are temporarily a single parent, and I am terribly sorry for that. Your donation of chocolate and jubes to the troops have been greatly appreciated, and I just want you to know Annabelle that I love you more than anything. Here in this hellscape where the wank never ends and we will all eventually be crushed by the effort of keeping up with it, I remember there are good things in this world every time you enclose a sketch of Bobson or a slightly sticky fingerpainting by Genevieve.

There are reasons to continue Annabelle, and though I am once more called away to fulfill various duties, I will return to you! I long to hold you in my arms and forget about the fighting, if only for brief moments.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really hope this is the last chapter. The reception all these letters have got in the chat really lifted my spirits in a really rough time for me, I love you all. <3

**21st September, 9:29, a letter by bookworm83197**  
Friend Annabelle,  
How fares your partner? I heard the shells from File770 impact not far from us, it was quite unsettling. My heart goes out to the brave souls in the trenches there. I thought of you, caring for the children alone, and I worry. Would it be too forward of me to visit sometime? I'm sure it'll do you well to have some reprieve from your tireless work. I've been making Hugo Winner fries for my children, a reprieve from this constant gloom.

Today I received a visit from FFA, could you believe it! They came by to say that for all our differences, given their druthers they'd side with us. They left, to trudge onward in the search for more wank, but not before telling the children some lovely stories. I had to pinch myself! Imagine what these times have brought us to.

I'm thinking of paying a visit to Renay with a basket of flowers to cheer her up sometime. It isn't right that she and others with family on both sides of the conflict be forced to agonize alone on the sidelines for fear that neither side will accept them. However disparate the ideologies of this conflict, we should never forget the people we love.

* * *

**21st September, 10:21, jeering overheard by CheyanneChika:**  
Us: Can I lick the Hugo?  
Them: Ew no, why?  
Us: Well...you do want some lube, right?

* * *

**21st September, 18:53, a letter from bookworm83197**  
Friend Annabelle,  
I fear I may be coming down with the ague. I cough and sniffle fearful amounts, but the determination to keep abreast of the news keeps me out and about.  
The File770 Opponents have opened up a new front today. While the old guard have closed ranks, I hear murmurs that the lurkers are beginning to condemn the actions of the vanguard, and I salute these brave souls for speaking up for what they believe when the opposition has shown such determination to press ad hominem attacks. I am also elated that our friends working beyond the front have encountered such allies! I am sure they will rest easier knowing that what surrounds them is not all nebulous hostility.

Discourse continues unchecked at home; a new forum has been set up on Page Four, where Ambassador Silex has been working tirelessly as a cultural attache. There is a curious silence on Page One; I hear tell that Lord Standlee has retired to his castle at Livejournal, but he yet receives audiences there. At least there, he is not causing havoc in the main square! It was getting uncomfortable to squeeze by so many people being belligerent to each other.

We received good tidings from an old friend today! It was so wonderful to be able to sit outside and discuss all that had passed since we last met over tea and biscuits. They had momentous news! But I won't share here, that would be telling. 😉 Come by next market day and I'll share all the juicy details! I may offer my assistance; who would turn away assistance with paperwork?

There is more I am dying to tell you, but the lamp light is running low, I was meant to be abed an hour past. I wait excitedly for your next letter!

* * *

**21st September, 18:54, a letter from faeryn:**  
Dear Aunt Annabelle,  
Can you believe the <s>war</s> wank has been going on for more than a week now?! I am so grateful for the brave soldiers keeping the fuddy-duddy invaders at bay, especially since I am unable, and unwilling, to join them. Your missives have continued to give me hope that all is not lost on the Front, and I pray that we will soon reach the end of this madness. I have salted, sat, and spun at that, since I fear the chances are unlikely. Perhaps in another 84 years we will be granted a reprieve.

I wish you, Bobson, and Genevieve all the very best and that your dear spouse is able to return home soon. I have enclosed gifts for my cousins, just in case I am cut off from you all.

* * *

**21st September, 19:58, a letter from Lydia:**  
Dear Annabelle,  
I send this to you at the tail end of an hour's reprieve from Backread. The wank has calmed for a full fifty minutes, Annabelle, can you believe it?

Might you have heard of the controversy surrounding the monument built by one William Frank? It has been some time since I braved the battles waged over there, but as I recall the villagers were very angry that sir William's "HugO3" monument was less the peace treaty he professed it to be and more of the self-aggrandizement that seems so common to the people of File. I cannot understand, Annabelle, why these Filers are so keen to list their many titles and holdings at every opportunity – and they do have so many of them, Annabelle, it does take the heralds of Mobile Scroll long seconds to announce their delegations, and they pray must repeat them again for you every time a Filer thinks you have forgotten. One Filer, a Cheral Lady Jane of Anon, was particularly keen on having the heralds announce her every time she spoke!

Oh, but Annabelle, I have heard a most intriguing rumour. You see, some of the villagers of Archive believe that mister William Frank was trespassing when he built his vaunted monument! Trespassing, Annabelle! He raised his statue on shared Archival lands, but hardly any time had passed before numerous messages were sent to Lady PAC pleading for her people's help, as sir William's statue is built from materials banned on Archival grounds, in fields not fit for statues. Sir William is employed in the court of Law, Annabelle, as you well know, so it seems most strange that he should not obey the laws of Archive, where he claims his summer home.

Yesterday a messenger came to me with the news that Lady PAC had sent a delegation to remove sir William's statue, and that it had been toppled! I was sure that would be the end of it – but alas, 'twas not to be. Annabelle, dear, I am sorry to say that I was led astray by scurrilous gossip from the land of Dreams, and in truth no official sanction has yet been placed on sir William Frank and his monument. Ah, the glacial pace of bureaucracy, Annabelle, I should not have forgotten it. Give my love to Genevieve and Bobson, along with my hopes that this war will soon come to an end.

* * *

**22nd September, 02:14, a letter from alyyks**  
Dearest Cousin Annabelle,  
I take my pen in hand to thank you for your letters keeping us informed of the latest developments of the war. We are a mere ocean away, but oft it feels like another world, and catching up to the developments as they happen would rob us of sleep. My dear love reminds me that while the fight is worthwhile, the people responsible are not worth our nights and our rest. Still, I read your missives feverishly as they arrive to us.

It is hard to believe it has been so short and so long a time. Mayhap it has become, alas, one more battle in a long war that our generation was fortunate to have only caught the edges of.

Fall is upon us and the fields must be mowed one last time for the winter, and this is where I leave you for there is alas much to do.

Transmit our love to your children and your spouse, for whom we are praying for safety and health.

Affectionately yours,  
Your loving cousin

* * *

**22nd September, 06:30, another letter from alyyks:**  
Dearest Cousin Annabelle,  
Forgive me the lateness of my reply, but you'll be comforted to know that all our cows have been accounted for. Our stray one had only gone over a ditch and through the forest, wandering on across the vast wanking fields.

Recounting the harrowing tales of your Emma to my very dear friend A., it only heightened the spitefulness of a few and the endless trudging our fellow endured and must still endure in face of it. It is with a heavy heart, albeit one full of hope, that I pray for a swift end to this conflict, and for our soldiers' safety and health. It is becoming increasingly clear that it will not be an easy resolution— not the first, and not the last.

My dear love reminds me to send you their love, and to theirs I must join mine, to you, the girls, and Emma. I hope we will be able to see you before the winter,  
Your loving cousin.

* * *

**22nd September, 11:08, a letter from anon:**  
My Beloved Sister Annabelle,  
It has been quite some time since I have been able to emerge from the front lines and write a missive to my dearest sister. I do hope the children are well. I was able to meet with your dear spouse yester eve, and find the strength of will to be admirable. I am most heartened by your dear Emma's stalwart efforts, and similarly, those of her platoon.

I have not heard much regarding our mother, but her last did state that she is doing well. I trust that sets your mind at ease at her susceptibility to encroachment by the men of the town, especially given what you have learned from our dear siblings regarding how the opposition is organized and funded. Never fear, dear sister, we shall persevere and emerge, if somewhat bedraggled, in strong spirits and camaraderie.

Tomorrow we march for the coast. I do not hold that this latest campaign shall be the last salvo in this never-ending war, but my hope springs eternal. It has been reported that the efforts of the militia that attempted to infiltrate our most secure encampment was met with much laughter, for which your dear brother is grateful. The more recent salvos send a shudder of fear through the ranks but we remain standing strong.

Give my best to the children and let them know their uncle shall return with the most glorious presents for them. If the farm's ass gives further trouble, remind him in no uncertain terms of what happened the last time - we've still got the receipts. They're in the lockbox beneath the bed in Father's room.

All my love,  
Your Favorite Brother

* * *

**22nd September, 11:32**  
Dearest Annabelle,  
I begin today's valiant effort 28 hours behind in the backread. I fear for my life, but I have heard from the postmaster that you have been receiving other correspondence, which warms my heart! Hopefully this will keep your spirits high while I once again go unto the breach. I am now making a scrapbook to remember this time by, if only so that we can be glad it is over in the future. (And Annabelle, it will end, for if it does not then we will be killed by it. Wars have happened before and they will happen again, and this only feels so overwhelming because we are in the middle of it!)

Send my love to the children, and to all our friends at home.

* * *

**22nd September, 12:47, a letter from bookworm83197:**  
Friend Annabelle,  
What a day it has been! Elf marched over to Livejournal to give Lord Standlee a piece of their mind, and my what a heated (and bizarre) exchange! Some very interesting tidbits about his ideas fell out through his hemming and hawing, there is much food for thought. But I could not stay for long, for I had to hasten elsewhere to catch the rest of the news today! I bought some macaroons; I enclosed some for the children! Forgive me for sampling some? They looked so delicious!

And alas, another brave comrade has fallen on the front at File770! Brave MRM, who has been leading the vanguard with their thoughtful commentary and incisive explanations, has proven a casualty of the furious mass salvos from the likes of JJ and Contrarius. I shall raise a toast in their honor tonight, joined no doubt by many well-wishers across the country. I was most displeased to note the return of one Hampus Eckerman to the opposition's commanding forces; however, I am most concerned that their diatribes will lead to costly losses of troops. While the lurkers were silent before, more and more voices are joining the chorus of mass desertion in the face of such unrelenting open hostility. Meantime, the very battlefield on which they stand seems to be turning against our brave troops! The barbed wire has stopped many a brave soldier from reaching the enemy lines. I wish I could contribute more substatively to the cause! My poor wrist aches from the number of letters of gratitude I have written, but alas, they remain stacked and sealed next to my desk, unsent.  
An amusing anecdote from the front today: One poor individual wandered into the battlefield, but their assistance was so unwanted that they were harangued from File770 by both sides, finally settling among the anonymous impartial observers at FFA!

Give all my love and good wishes to Emma! So brave, for daring the backscroll time and time again! ❤️

* * *

** 22nd September, 13:07 **  
Dearest Annabelle,  
I know I am but a relatively junior captain in this terrible war, but if we win it, do I not have the same right as the generals to claim that I helped win the war? Surely those who staff the mess hall fed the soldiers who fought in the war and that’s also being part of the war effort, and partially responsible for winning it? And then you, too, having sent chocolate and jubes to the front to keep us sane, also won the war!

This entire conflict becomes more nonsensical by the day. I am 25 hours behind in the backread. Sickness is beginning to make itself known throughout the troops, and we can only hope that everyone has a swift recovery and it does not fell too many of us! For my part, I have already resorted to analgesics. I long for your soothing voice and your gentle kisses.

* * *

**22nd September, 17:54, a letter from bookworm83197**  
Friend Annabelle,  
So much discussion has occurred since I last wrote! We have been researching the hierarchy of the opposition, but just as we grasp the structure it flows out of our hands like water. After several hours of intense reading, I went outside to water the scallions and ease my headache.

The ground on which the battle is being fought is indeed being sapped by the enemy! One or two of our troops on the frontlines have fallen prey to their traps. Constant vigilance is required! I've started marking the positions on a map, which I am cross referencing against the generals' press releases. I also noticed some growing number of citizens of Tumblr are paying attention to these press releases as well. There have been murmurs of T-Shirt campaigns among them; perhaps if it stays safe, we could take the children out to enjoy the events.

The File770 front grows ever more sinister in its strategies. There have been casualties on both sides, I fear, and many innocents are yet caught in the crossfire, with no hope in the storm. Denise from Dreamwidth has opened a berth to accept some of the wounded, and is yet assisted by volunteer nurses who hail from all over; I do hope more such hospitals are unnecessary, but one should always hope for the best and plan for the worst, yes?

My love to the children, and I've enclosed some of my favorite tea for you!

* * *

**22nd September, 21:10**  
Dearest Annabelle,  
I was felled by the illness going around camp and had to retire to my bed in an effort to triumph against nausea, but I have returned, feeling much better! I am now 30 hours behind in the backread, for my nap was far longer than I intended, and everything is feeling once again insurmountable.

Unrelatedly, Annabelle, I promise not to take out a $50,000 loan to promote a convention that I will not profit from, perhaps one akin to the banana pudding fest but for cheesecake. Presumably I would have to use the house we have only just paid off, and neither you nor the children deserve that kind of financial uncertainty.

I would like to take this opportunity to salute my fellow soldier Sergeant Bookworm, who deserves a commission and then some for all the glorious work she has been doing. Due to military secrecy and such, much of the information she has been gathering is classified, but believe me when I say she is spectacular.

* * *

**22nd September, 18:55, a letter from twocatstailoring:**  
My sweet sister Annabelle,  
I am writing to you from a most prime position to witness the battles as they play out: the Salt Flats. It is truly an underappreciated location! I hardly need mother's old opera glasses to see your darling Emma's standard flying high through the backread. She is such an inspiration to all and for we her family, such a source of pride!

But Annabelle, I simply must tell you what I have observed from here. Our opponent's volleys are many and come quickly, but they remain unchanged, even as our forces grow. And while there have been far too many casualties for our troops, I believe we will be victorious!

For Annabelle they have entrenched themselves so deeply and are so blinded by the smoke of their own attacks that they have lost all sense of battlefield tactics. They launch the same attacks, showing more and more of their hand with every salvo. Their true positions and strategies are laid bare and they have no notion of what they have done!

But, what can be expected of an army of nothing but troops who believe themselves five-star Generals? But I must away. It is the week-end and the opposition never rests. Gracious, but they are a noisy bunch!

As ever, your devoted sister.

* * *

**23rd September, 00:23**  
Dearest Annabelle,  
I have reached 24 hours in the backlog, but I fear my strength is waning! Despite the fact that I had a five-hour nap mere hours ago, I am thinking of going to sleep again and resuming this in the morning. At some point I should probably work on all my other responsibilities, but instead this wank has consumed my every waking moment.

I am very glad to hear Bobson is ever surer on her feet, and tell Genevieve that she was truly the star in the school play, though she may not have had any lines. It’s incredible how well she can emote in a papier-mâché lobster costume. This wank may be slowing at last! We can only hope for a swift resolution (if it can still be called swift). This has been the longest week of my entire life.

* * *

**23rd September, 02:02, a letter from Amiril:**  
Dear Annabelle  
I have finally caught up with our troops after I had to stop and rest. Tragically my time with them must be short, for I have been tasked with completing Operation: Real Job. I mourn the weekend, as I mourn our fallen comrades. I hope the enemy will soon be forced to attend Real Jobs of their own.

* * *

**23rd September, 03:15, a letter from alyyks:**  
Dear Cousin Annabelle,  
I take this brief moment in between all the preparation for winter and the end of harvest to put my pen to paper and thank you once again for the numerous favors you sent on our way.  
Even here in our mountains the rumors of the wank are the chief subject of conversation, and it becomes hard to know who had, or has, the authority to make the decisions that were taken and which rang the first battles. My heart weeps for our brave soldiers, and all our fellows caught between. For people who all speak one language, you would think the communication would be easier, not harder, and the entire situation could maybe have been avoided! Alas. My dear love reminds me we will endure, and their boundless hope and practicality buoys me. I hope it will, in turn, lift your spirits.

Attempting to summarize the situation to my visiting parents was an arduous task, and I was afraid something would get lost in between languages. It seems, however, that my parents' wisdom stays true. Their reaction to it was of disdain to an organization that does not seem to understand the meaning of that word, as well as a reminder that popularity contests, while well covered, be it by letters and newspapers, rarely are a gage of quality.

But I must go; the grass must be turned over and the cows milked. My love, and my dear love's, to you and the children, and our thoughts are with your dear Emma, may she finds her way to you swiftly.  
Your loving cousin

* * *

**23rd September, 03:15, a letter from anon:**  
My Dear Friend Annabelle,  
I visited the troops yesterday to bring supplies and comfort. Though I wish I could bear better tidings, it appears your beloved wife has taken ill, as have several of our other brave soldiers. I fear the stress of the experience has been too much for our kind-hearted townspeople. I may return to the front tomorrow–do you wish me to carry anything for you?

I have also heard that several trenches have filled in across one of the battlefields. Many support troops have also been barred from there by gates. I confess that I am neither surprised nor particularly displeased at this turn of events. For truly, any place that could cause the Duchess Ursula to take her leave may not be a safe field for our people. I have taken solace in rereading my favorites among her treatises, including one newly discovered one about a bull. She remains a bright light in this dismal action.

I confess, my friend, that I begin to doubt the entire purpose of this war. It appears to be some outgrowth of an ancient civil friction within the town of Westfields. Why then have we been drawn into it? A city of two million inhabitants and millions more visitors, what have we to do with the clamor and agitation of another, much smaller town? Certainly many of our citizens were once citizens there, or remain so still, and that must be considered. Yet this battle must be decided by those within their fiefdom. I dearly wish they would take their fighting away from our fields. Our troops so dearly wish to come home.

Well, I have been maudlin long enough. Please give my regards to your family and kiss the children for me. I shall likely be gone to the front again tomorrow; I pray this will be the last time.

Your friend and schoolmate,

* * *

**23rd September, 04:01 a letter from Darg:**  
My dear cousin Annabelle,  
Fear not, for I have survived my wounds! I have been languishing for many days and have fallen far behind. I was so close to giving up and returning home, but I have rallied! I have encountered a messenger heading in the direction of home, so I thought to send this missive to inform you that my absence is no longer indicative of death, but of life. On this trek to the frontlines, I am exceedingly grateful for your Emma, who has bravely left markers for others to follow. She has gone beyond the call of duty to also notate how long it took her each day. Were you not already married, I would tell you to marry her immediately. Writing this letter has taken precious minutes from my progress, so I shall close here. I spin, I spit, I salt—may the end be drawing near.  
I remain,  
Your loving cousin,  
Darg

* * *

**23rd September, 10:33, a letter from Lydia**  
Dear Annabelle,  
I find myself both awaiting and dreading the seven-hundredth comment. These last salvos have all been parting shots of laughter, oh and one more limerick, we mustn't forget the limericks.

* * *

**23rd September, 10:42**  
Dearest Annabelle,  
I slept for 13 hours yesterday, depression is a trip. But I return from the land of sleep to go back into battle, being 32 hours behind in the backread. I plan today to finally get caught up! Please send more chocolate and lollies, we seem to have run out and the mess is obviously strapped as it is, given we thought this would be a conflict lasting two days at most. I hear people have been using my letters to you as a way to catch up on the wank, which seems unhelpful, as I rarely give you the gory details of the war, but I'm glad people enjoy my missives.

I have enclosed a small trinket each for Bobson and Genevieve, made by one of my talented comrades during downtime. It depicts a little Hugo rocket made of wood, and — oh no, Annabelle, I must depart, it seems the 700th salvo has just hit one of the trenches! I must away to survey the damage.

I love you and the children dearly, please never forget.

* * *

**23rd September, 15:51**  
Dearest Annabelle,  
I've been at this all day and I am still 22 hours behind. Perhaps I will never reach you! I am akin to a HP wrangler: always shovelling, but the tags come in faster than I can deal with them! Except the tags are wank. Perhaps if we had some kind of steam-powered engine...

You will be glad to know that I did remember to eat lunch, although it was at 3pm. I received your beautiful cross-stitch saying "all my tentacles won a Hugo" and I have been granted permission to hang it in the mess hall so we can all remember what it is we are fighting for.

The food is still very bad, but that's war for you.

I will pass on the picture Genevieve drew of Sgt. Bookworm, though I will emphasise that she simply doesn't have the hang of how many fingers a human has yet.

My love to everyone at home!

* * *

**23rd September, 18:24, a letter from bookworm83197:**  
Friend Annabelle,  
The bombardment has abated some, in comparison to the fury of last week! I emerged from my paperwork-reading stupor to realize that my home had been growing shabbier by inches as I threw my energies into compiling reports, and I was engaged today in a thorough bout of housekeeping. Good news from my garden as well! The rosebush which has been creeping up to my front windowsill has produced the most petite and tightly closed of buds! I greatly anticipate how magnificent it shall look once it blooms!

I fear there has been a thorough winnowing of the ranks of brave troopers who have been doing battle on the File770 front! I am glad to report, however, that not all were casualties of complete exasperation and despair; some of our resourceful troopers have managed to leverage some blocking extensions to safely protect themselves from the bombardments of the hostiles. There, they have been granted some respite from the thunderous noise of the wank, which they enjoy together immensely. I'm putting together a care package for them, now that it has been security has been ensured, have you any suggestions? I'm sure the troops would be immensely cheered by any personal touches Genevieve or Bobson could contribute.

However, all in life must be balanced, and the abatement of general activity from the File770 front is coupled with yet more announcements by Lord Standlee! Can you believe, that now he is declaring that there have never been any formal rules for who may be use the title of "Hugo Award Winner" at all? None! How could we decide anything, now that we know there are no rules at all!

A suspicious disappearance has occurred on the home front! I went to check the public announcements, and noticed that the total number of notices had dropped precipitously from the day before! Would that I could recall who they were, but the bulletins have been flying thick and fast, and I believe I have been truly overcome with the staggering amount of material produced daily, alas.

The low rumblings continue in neighboring Tumblr, unabated. I am sure the generals are watching with care.  
Fare thee well, Annabelle! As always, my love to the children!

* * *

**24th September, 07:19, a letter from Ekala:**  
Dear Annabelle,  
You do not know me, and I do hope that my presumption in writing to you does not tread into the realm of overfamiliarity. Your Emma's letters have become well-known and have been bolstering me in my long journey to the front lines, and I simply had to express my gratitude.

I was away for a mere three days, and yet I have been treading through the mire of the battlefield now for what must simply be weeks attempting to catch up, though my trusty timepiece assures me it has been merely a few hours. I fear I may never catch up to the remainder of our brave soldiers to offer my support, as the front is still nearly 36 hours from me, and seems to be ever moving forward. Some news travels even here and I can tell that the trenches are still full. Yet I am still confident we will hold together through this storm.

Please pass my thanks on to your Emma and my most hearty congratulations to your darling Genevieve and Bobson for their respective achievements.

* * *

**30th September, 16:47**

Dearest Annabelle,

Shana tova, my love. I thought that in the dying days of 5779, the war had ended! No real treaty or peace deal was struck but we all tired of the fighting, and even the whinging of various people on third-party websites was easily ignorable (or sometimes fun to dip back into, to spectate). Alas, here on the birthday of the world, I opened up the chat to see 620+ new messages and knew that my worst fears had come true. We expected a renewal of the wank to come with the drive, but that is still some weeks away! I have no idea what awaits me in that hellish landscape we call backread, and my dearest wish is that you are patient with me as I regretfully find out. Kiss the children goodnight for me, I may be some time.

* * *

Dearest Annabelle,

I cannot believe that the next convention is to be held in the far-flung land of Aotearoa NZ and they chose… an American author to host. Aotearoa is a veritable smorgasboard of delightful science fiction voices, but I guess this is lions leading donkeys, and all that. Lions who have not looked into any local celebrities that may do a much better job. The good news is that the fighting has not yet resumed! It was merely another newcomer boggling at the newspapers recording the war.

My blood pressure may soon return to normal.

In much more cheerful news, our new goat is settling in well! Solo has of course already managed to jump three fences, but I think that is just a hazard of goats. Hopefully we will soon have goats’ milk and in a few months’ time, some wool! I am sure absolutely nothing will go wrong.

I am coming home to you even as I write this, as someone else is driving the carriage. I panicked and bought too many stamps, assuming I was once again going to be in the trenches for many weeks, so this is a way of using them up. I love you and the children so much!

**Author's Note:**

> My actual fics can be found at [spacegandalf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegandalf).


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